too many to count

too many to count

S

ummer’s soft open is this weekend. Maybe the spots running nonstop for charcoal briquette sales tipped you off, but I was already in the loop. Roy woke the house at five ‘til 6 this morning wishing everyone a happy summer and wanting to know when he could start making blueberry pancakes.

This is only the beginning, the outer edge of our warm weather idylls, but at our house you can actually see things starting to take root and grow. A dense colony of morning glory seeds are making good on their promise, breaking through the ground and starting upward.

“It seems like there are a lot of them,” I told Scott. “Maybe too many.”

“No such thing,” he said, dismissively.

Scott waters anything with the temerity to try to grow in the desert, even if it’s 300 morning glory seeds that had the good fortune to dry up and fall off in an area where he was thinking about planting again, anyway. The dearth of green here in the Southwest has killed any possibility of consideration he might otherwise have given to the idea of selective reduction to this exploding colony of vine-lets.

“Wait ‘til September,” he continued, “you won’t be saying that then.”

He’s probably right, too, because over the course of the summer, Scott builds ambitious, transient structures out of these morning glories. Extending string up and over our sidewalk, next to and over our porch light, these leaning towers wend their way into one another, creating dense columns of green accompanied by dawn-time flashes of color. By fall they seem substantial, but it is a summer’s worth of work getting them there.

I can imagine where these small plants are going over the months ahead—how tall they’ll get, how far into the fall they’ll grow—but I can’t know what colors to expect or how many blooms will show. We have the summer to find out, to see what shapes and shades reveal themselves between now and August.

Happy summer. I’ll see you back here on Tuesday.